Cast Iron Skillet

Jerk is a style of cooking native to the island of Jamaica that transforms ordinary chicken into a flavorful, highly aromatic eating experience. Meats are dry-rubbed with a spice mixture called jerk seasoning, then grilled. This seasoning relies principally on two elements: allspice and Scotch bonnet peppers (among the hottest peppers on earth). Typically, whole pieces of bone-in, skin-on chicken are barbecued over wood—usually over the wood of the allspice tree. The skin is omitted here—and with that goes about 80 calories per portion.

These short ribs are everything you want braised meat to be. They are tender and juicy with a rich beefy flavor that is nicely balanced by the sweetness of the carrots. The root beer and birch bark draw on familiar aromatics and tastes but we use them in a slightly different manner. Come to think of it, these short ribs are not too far off from a traditional cola-glazed ham.

This is a pot roast. It is a specialty of Sri Lanka’s Burgher community, which owes its origins to a happy mixture of European colonialists, mostly Dutch but some Portuguese and English as well, with the local population. Burgher cuisine is a glorious by-product of this union. Here, a simple pot roast has been made wonderfully Sri Lankan with the addition of roasted coriander, cumin, and fennel seeds—the main ingredients in Sri Lankan curry powders—and, of course, coconut milk. Some people add a little simple lime pickle, or tamarind water or vinegar, to give it a tart edge. I have used red wine vinegar. A few simple steps are required here: The spices need to be roasted and ground. Then, after the meat is browned, everything goes into a pot and is braised slowly in the oven. The meat is sliced, and some of its own sauce is ladled over the top. It may then be served with rice, noodles (Sri Lanka has exquisite rice noodles, so Thin Rice Noodles would work), or mashed potatoes, if you prefer.

This tasty frittata has a particularly pleasing texture, light and luscious like a soufflé on the inside, with lots of crust outside, especially when baked in a heavy cast-iron skillet. It’s an excellent brunch or lunch dish, served either warm or, if you want to make it ahead, at room temperature. And this lends itself to many tasty variations: simply fold into the rice mixture a cup or more of sautéed onions and peppers, cooked crumbled sausage, or cubes of Taleggio, before incorporating the whipped egg whites.

In these days when the choice of chicken dishes seems limited to variations of grilled chicken breast, this recipe is a refreshing departure. You butterfly (split open) a whole chicken, fill it with a savory stuffing, close the bird up again, and pan-roast it in a cast-iron skillet, creating a wonderful sauce at the same time. It is beautiful and bursting with flavor. And though the chicken is plump, the dish is light and fresh-tasting.

This is a lovely, careful way to prepare thick lamb chops—quite different from the usual fast grilling approach—and it makes them extraordinarily flavorful and tender. The chops brown gradually in a heavy skillet over relatively low heat, steadily building the flavors of caramelization, and then cook covered with a small amount of liquid and seasoning elements. This short period of moist cooking doesn’t draw the meat juices into the liquid (as it would in long stewing or braising) but instead brings the seasoning flavors more intensely into the meat itself. Here, lemon, olives, and oregano give the chops the tangy taste of Abruzzo. For a great winter meal, accompany them with something cozy, like polenta, mashed potatoes, or smothered cabbage or cauliflower. In summer, a tossed green salad is all you need. Either rib chops or loin chops are suited for this recipe, though my choice is the loin chop, which offers portions of both the loin and the tenderloin muscles (like a T-bone steak). You could use lamb shoulder chops, too, but they’d need nearly twice as much time to cook covered. They wouldn’t be as amazingly tender as loin or rib chops, but they would be delicious (and cost a lot less). With any kind of chop, a heavy cast-iron pan is perfect here, because of its steady heat-retaining qualities, but it must be well seasoned, so the meaty caramelization is not lost on the pan bottom.

Pan-cooked chicken, caramelized and sticky to the fingers, moist and flavorful inside, is a favorite food around the world. If there are chicken-lovers in your family (as in mine), this Le Marche version is sure to be a hit. Its special taste and texture come from the region’s big fat Ascolane olives, which imbue the chicken with flavor, and the crunch of native pine nuts. Though authentic Ascolane olives are fantastic in this dish, they’re only occasionally available in the United States. But other varieties of green, brine-cured Italian olives (such as Castelvetrano or Cerignola) will be delicious, too; just keep in mind that the saltiness of olives will vary, and season accordingly. “How about black olives?” you ask. And I say, “Black oil-cured olives will be delicious as well; even a green-and-black combination would be nice.” Choose your preferred chicken pieces, too. A whole bird, cut up, is fine, though all dark meat—drumsticks and thighs—is my favorite. And if you are in a hurry (or watching your fat intake), use breast pieces. With these, you can cut the oil and butter in the recipe in half and, because breast meat cooks faster, brown the pieces initially for only 10 minutes, turn them, add the olives, then cook for an additional 10 minutes.

The Thanksgiving table would not be complete without potatoes to absorb all that delicious gravy. Mashed potatoes are the most common, but sometimes you yearn for something with a bit more texture. That's where the Swiss rösti potato cake is ideal. Although you'll see some recipes for rösti that start with raw potatoes, it's more commonly done with whole cooked boiling potatoes that have been chilled at least eight hours, if not a day ahead. Once they are peeled and coarsely grated, you pack the shreds into a skillet and brown the cake on top of the stove. Instead of going through the angst of attempting to flip the cake over to brown the other side, just turn on the broiler and it browns easily in a fraction of the time.

Editor's note: Use this recipe to make Alex Brown and Evan George's Savory Rolls . The next best thing to foraging your own wild mushrooms and huffing their death-matter musk from a Hobbitshire-like hillside in NorCal while your guide trips on psilocybin shrooms is (obviously) slurping crispy hot shrooms right out of the cast-iron skillet they were cooked in. Admittedly, it's a distant second. But it still feels nasty. Thanks to the whole steak joint steeze revival, it’s now totally acceptable to eat out of cast-iron. Here we do a mushroom mélange of various shapes, sizes, textures, and prices. Omit and add as you like, especially if you actually get to forage for wild ones.

Highway 84 runs from Santa Fe to Colorado. About forty minutes north of Santa Fe, the highway cuts a paved path through Ohkay Owingeh, a Native American reservation, and the roadside becomes dense with fast-food outlets, outposts of national grocery chains, Walmart, and billboards for Ohkay Casino, Hutch and Norma Naranjo's sprawling midcentury home is set about fifty years back from the road, a shrine to the tug-of-war between new ways and traditional ones. In the backyward Mr. Naranjo built two hornos (behive-shaped adobe ovens). Inside the house, a handmade wreath of dried chiles hangs on one wall and a string of made-for-tourists ceramic peppers on another. A naïve painting of St. Francis hangs not far from a cluster of the dream catchers that the couple and their two grown children fashion from string, feathers, and yarn, just as their Pueblo ancestors did. "We go to church one Sunday and dance the traditional dances the next," said Mrs. Naranjo. A retired social worker, she gives cooking classes and does a little catering. But she spends most of her mornings working the two-acre minifarm where she grows vegetables from seeds that have been passed from one Pueblo generation to another for at least a thousand years. "The history of our people is in those seeds," she says. In the evenings, when her husband builds hornos on the terraces of hotels and McMansions, Mrs. Naranjo visits the elderly women in Ohkay Owingeh, who remember life and cooking when it was closer to the land, and collects their recipes and food stories. "Our history lives in our hands as well," she says. Mrs. Naranjo moves with the efficiency of a modern professional as she smooths cornmeal paste on damp cornhusks. Tiny white kernels from several ears of heirloom corn, and diced green chiles and squash, along with a thick, bloodred chile sauce and shredded fresh cheese, are lined up in small stainless-steel bowls at the head of her tamale assembly line. She notes that tamales were stuffed with rabbit, venison, pork—whatever people had. Vegetable tamales were a fine way to make use of the gardens' overflowing crops. She swathes the dough, sprinkles filling, folds, ties, and places the tamale bundles on a rack set over water in a big enameled pot. From time to time, she glances out the window to the backyard, where her husband is feeding small, dry sticks into this new four-by-four horno. Her smaller tamales are, she says, her only concession to modernity: "People love the little ones as snacks, and Hutch and I love them in these green chile stews we make in the horno."

Dense, flavorful aged beef works best for this pan-roasted steak. If you use unaged beef, plan on shorter cooking times.

"Talk to most chefs and they'll say they'd want a perfectly roasted chicken for their last meal," says Sean Brock. For his definitive version, Brock starts with superflavorful heritage-breed chickens, but the key to the dish is prepoaching the bird in an immersion circulator. Because most home cooks don't have access to this equipment, we adapted the recipe to work in a home kitchen.

For all the robustness of the ingredients of this dish, the end result is notably delicate. One might ask, "Oh, but won't the bracing scent of pine make the dish taste of Christmas fir or, worse, freshly waxed parlor?" It will not. The smoked needles impart a light, balsamic flavor akin to rosemary (indeed one might substitute a bundle of that herb in this recipe), and the light glaze allows the pine flavor to shine through. The overall effect proves an excellent complement to the moist, flaky fish this cooking technique yields. Should one desire a more intensely flavored glaze, one might make a bit extra to brush over the fish before serving.

These skillet-fried biscuits are a little sturdier than many other biscuits in order to hold the fresh berries intact. The butter bumps up the flavor as well. When they are fried, they remind me of the blueberries we picked early one morning as Girl Scouts and made into pancakes—a culinary highlight of my childhood. But they are very special baked as well. Either way, they’re a winner.

This is my cornbread, the one I offer up as what real cornbread ought to be: skillet-born, sugar-free, and bacon-blessed. Heating the bacon drippings in a cast-iron skillet is important. When the batter hits the hot fat, it sizzles and starts forming a deeply browned, crispy bottom crust that tastes like a good hushpuppy. Some people omit flour from their cornbread, but I find that it helps hold the cornbread together when it's cut, particularly when I use coarse stone-ground cornmeal. My sweet daddy and I grind our own cornmeal on a 1923 Meadows Mill that my great-grandfather, Papa Will Reece, bought new. The mill is considered portable, but it weighs several hundred pounds and must be hauled on a stout trailer. It's powered by a hit-or-miss engine, one of the first machines used in farming. Daddy hauls the mill and engine to heritage festivals and such all over the country. The whole operation is really something to see. For your cornbread, seek out the best whole-grain stone-ground cornmeal available in your community or order it from ansonmills.com. Fresh whole-grain meal is quite perishable, so store it in an airtight container in the refrigerator or freezer.

An easy one-hour marinade guarantees tender chops. Mix chopped fresh herbs into the breadcrumbs for extra flavor.

Sophisticated enough for a Sunday supper yet quick enough for Wednesday's dinner, this master recipe is all in the technique. Cook the thighs skin side down in a cast-iron skillet to render out the fat and make the skin as crisp and, dare we say, delicious as bacon.

I just ate a meal of some meltingly tender pork, butternut squash, and toasted walnuts. No, this isn't my food journal. I'm sharing this information with you because the above foods are supposed to reduce the incidence of many diseases that might come my way. Okay, maybe you're not interested in your arteries working at peak capacity; maybe what you want is to enjoy food to the maximum and not have to force it down your throat because it's good for you. That said, you'll love this dish, whether or not its health benefits ever cross your mind.

All hail kale: Research shows it turns on your body's natural detoxifying enzymes to help ward off lung and stomach cancers.

These noodle-like dumplings, made with bacon fat, are a true taste of Southern cooking. They're easy to prepare and delicious, so it's easy to understand why they were a staple (plus they make good use of that can of bacon fat under the sink that everyone used to have). But the best thing about these tender dumplings is that they really soak up the flavorful braising juices and take on the flavor of the rabbit. I find that it's easiest to braise the rabbits whole, but if you buy them pre-sectioned, that's fine, they'll cook in the same manner. When you are picking the tender meat off the rabbit, avoid shredding it too finely (larger pieces of meat make a nicer presentation), and be extra careful to pick out small bones. I always pick the meat twice to make sure that I've gotten every last one.